Fever
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: "I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say." - Daphne du Maurier


**A/N: Written for the Corah Christmas Exchange, thought it was about time to post!**

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**"I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say." - Daphne du Maurier .**

_1904_

From her place at the side-line of the annual garden party Sarah O'Brien watched her new mistress with as blank an expression as she could. She'd been in the Countess' employ for only three weeks and come at just the right time according to the upright Carson, a time when Lady Grantham needed the support of her staff more than ever to help her through the trying time of organising the party that the whole family and half the county came to. Looking around the people assembled, sipping only the finest champagne and eating the canapés that the bad tempered cook had whipped the lash to make her staff produce that morning, Sarah couldn't help but think that it was a bloody boring party and not one she'd relish an invitation to, even if she was in the right circle to warrant one.

The people spoke about nothingness, wittering on with their false pleasantries and utter ignorance of anything that might be happening of importance in the world and each of them looked their friends and relatives over with harsh appraisal while all the time their tongues lied. Sarah would have called them a nest of vipers if she had thought for a second any of them had the intelligence to sting properly.

The Dowager Countess was the only one who really could, but she was sat in the centre of everything with her daughter and niece flanking her either side with twin coils of coppery hair pulled behind their heads. Sarah had never before thought that red hair could be boring and common-place but amongst the Crawley brood there were plenty of them and it ceased to be a novelty. Much more interesting was the inky black silken strands that fell around the lone Americans face as she wafted around the garden, belonging to anyone she happened to speak to. She spoke to none of them at length of course – the time constraints of the day didn't allow for it – and Cora had confided in her maid that morning that she had learnt from observing how her mother operated around a room that it was best to go to them, indulge them for ten minutes, and then retreat and after that the guests would flock to her for the rest of the afternoon.

Personally Sarah thought this was nonsense but looking at the long line of people that were hovering close-by to the Countess she was forced to change her opinion. She might not be a proper lady but Sarah was willing to make the concession that if nothing else Cora was cleverer than she looked: or rather, her mother was.

Sarah licked her dry lips and looked away from Cora towards where the glasses of champagne were lined up, ready for the footmen to fill and deploy the moment it looked like people were beginning to finish their glasses. The crystal gleamed in the bright sun and each glass looked like it was sparkling before the champagne was even poured and Sarah fancied that if she moved her head in just the right way she could make the light move over the glasses and look like a band of fairies had taken up residence in them.

Christ, she thought as she swallowed dryly and blinked her eyes to rid them of the lights that lingered, she really did need some bloody water if she was starting to spout nonsense like that.

"O'Brien?"

Her head snapped to attention at the sound of her name and improbably the Countess of Grantham was coming towards her with a small rueful smile and a glass in her hand. Holding onto her other hand was Lady Sybil, the child's thin arms were poking out of her white dress and making her look more awkward than any eight year old had a right to.

"I wondered if I could beg a favour from you O'Brien?"

"Certainly m'lady."

Her eyes darted from the glass and back up to Cora's face and the Countess smiled again. Sarah felt something odd twist inside her and wondered idly if this was her ten minutes.

"Lady Sybil has somehow managed to get past Mr Carson and has been helping herself to the champagne."

Cora pulled a face that to Lady Sybil must have seemed the sternest thing in the world but Sarah could see the amusement behind her eyes clear as day and she raised her eyebrow, glancing down at the child as though she had committed the gravest of offences.

"I wondered if you could take her up to the nursery?"

The retort that it wasn't her job danced on the end of her tongue but instead Sarah found herself holding out her hand to take charge of Sybil and the Countess handed her child over immediately. For the briefest moment Cora's fingers brushed against hers and Sarah felt her chest tighten, especially when the Countess crouched down slightly, after checking no one was looking in the direction of the assorted servants, and spoke directly to Sybil.

"Be good for Miss O'Brien Sybil. I'll be up later to kiss you goodnight but champagne," Cora upended the glass onto the grass and Sarah watched longingly as wine that cost more than every piece of clothing she owned put together spilled over the shorn lawn. "Is not appropriate for children."

Sybil nodded sadly but licked her lips slyly nevertheless and Sarah's lip twitched. When Cora got to her feet again she was taller than both of them and spoke directly to her maid, getting close enough so Sybil couldn't see her no matter how much the little girl craned her neck.

"I appreciate this O'Brien. I wouldn't ask but the nanny's down with a cold and well-"

Cora smiled softly, amusement dancing in her eyes and though Sarah didn't smile in return she felt the warmth of a smile that wasn't on her lips and it seemed to her that Cora felt it too. She'd heard it on the lips of plenty of employers of course – _"There's no one else I trust"_ – but somehow from Cora she felt she believed it. There were so many people in her household after all and out of all of them _she_ was the one she had chosen to look after her child.

"You're not really doing anything until later."

Sarah's insides froze and only the wriggling in her hand of Sybil's made her realise that her fingers had gone rigid around the child's.

"Certainly m'lady."

She waited for what seemed like an eternity till Cora turned around and went back to her guests, giving the glass to Carson with a long-suffering shake of her head and Sarah began to tug Sybil behind her towards the house. The girl pulled back to begin with but Sarah was stronger and thankfully no one saw them.

"Mama's never angry. Do you think she'll be angry Miss O'Brien?"

"I don't know m'lady. I don't know her very well yet."

Sybil mused on this for a moment before she looked up with a small frown that made her look more than a little bit like her mother and Sarah felt the annoyance grow.

"Why isn't champagne for children?"

"Because it rots your insides. You need to drink castor oil to make it better."

Sybil's eye went wide with horror at the thought of the terrible medicine and Sarah felt some vindication. The Countess could drink as much champagne as she liked but she could at least make her child drink something bitter.

Sarah's sick of the sight of Cora after the first three months and considers handing in her notice sooner rather than later. If she stays too long then it'll look like she did something wrong and Cora was forced to dismiss her; if she goes of her own accord then it looks merely as though they didn't suit each other. The ball would still be in Lady Grantham's court of course and Sarah knows there's no alternative, short of staging a molestation at the hands of his lordship, that would possibly make her position as strong as the Countess', but at least a mutual inability to work together wouldn't look too bad on her resume; besides which, Cora was a bit soppy at times and if she caught her at the right moment, she might just get away with a decent reference too.

She's quite young still, the perfect age for a lady's maid in fact, she'll soon find other work.

When she goes into the bedroom later that evening Cora was crying, no, not crying, _weeping_ tears of utter anguish and Sarah considered leaving the room as soon as she could rather than making her presence known, but she found herself taking tentative steps closer instead, almost despite herself. Cora was a questionable mistress but she wasn't a bad person and his lordship was out for the evening and other than sending to the Dower House or asking the oldest daughter to do something, there really wasn't anyone else.

Well...that was life wasn't it?

In an instant she changed her mind and faded into the shadows of the room and out of the bedroom door as swiftly as she had arrived. In the hallway she hovered by the white-painted wood and scrunched her hand so tightly around the nightdress resting over her arm that she could almost feel her nails going through it. She stopped. She leant against the wall, hearing no close-by footsteps, only the ongoing sound of Cora crying helplessly in her room about god only knew what. Sarah supposed it was something to do with finding a white hair or a hall boy not kneeling at her feet when she passed or some such nonsense.

She caught her reflection in the glass of a picture frame and scowled. Her mother hand told her that once she was a lady's maid she would be more than just any old housemaid: lady's maids were _confidantes_ her mother has insisted, leaving Sarah with nothing more than a smirk on her lips as she considered whether her mother even knew what that word meant. _She_ did of course. The local school had been a decent one and her dad had been a keen reader so there had been books pouring out of shelves and Sarah had read them all in the brief moments she got away from her chores and she'd come across the odd French phrase that she'd asked her teachers to translate, knowing full well that sooner or later it would come in handy. And now she knew the word, knew the meaning and it was time for her to put it into practice.

With a burst of inspiration she slipped instead into his lordship's closet, knowing full well that the man himself wasn't there but, sure enough, that dozy girl downstairs had lit a fire in here nevertheless and Sarah immediately draped the nightdress out in front of it to keep it warm and keep off the wrinkles. Slipping back out of the room she straightened her dress and knocked on the door loudly this time, not wanting to surprise Cora.

There was scuffling inside and Sarah rolled her eyes. For Christ's sake who did the stupid bloody woman think she was?

"It's only me m'lady."

Silence, before-

"O'Brien?" The door opened and Cora's face peered out, still pink with tears but with more confusion than anything else. "I've told you twice there's no need to knock."

Sarah lowered her head and tried her best to look contrite.

"I'm sorry m'lady, I suppose I'm still getting used to Downton after my old place. The lady of the house there wasn't quite so kind so I thought it best to be safe rather than sorry."

Accepting this Cora left the door and Sarah slipped inside quickly, closing the door behind her.

"I hope you don't think me bold m'lady-" Bright blue eyes, magnified by the tears, shot up to meet hers and Sarah faltered. Well, bugger it, she was giving notice anyway wasn't she? "But I can't help but notice that you're upset."

"Upset?" The words were sharp and Cora narrowed her eyes. "I didn't realise you were such a keen observationist O'Brien."

Cora turned away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, bringing her wrist up to stifle the sobs that would not abate and Sarah stood still watching her feeling indignation seeping through her. Who did this bloody woman think she was to speak to her like that?! The only one of the family Sarah had any time for so far was the old lady, if only because _she _at least knew how to speak to staff: with respect, if she expected to get it back, but with clarity too, so there was no need for confusion. The Dowager must have been a formidable Countess and Sarah cursed herself for having been born too late to work for the magnificent lady who knew what she was about and didn't sit snivelling and being unfairly sharp with her servants. She stood her ground, not having been dismissed yet but waiting for it any moment, however, the expected insistence that she left didn't come. Instead Cora surprised her.

Through long sodden lashes Cora looked up at her, her head turned and her cheeks pink with the sorrow that wouldn't cease and Cora must have seen something in her face because it crumpled again immediately.

"Oh goodness…I'm sorry O'Brien. It's not your fault at all."

Cora reached out a hand and Sarah hesitated, looking at it suspiciously before she obliged her lady and reached out to take it in her own. Cora's fingers were as soft as the rest of her, warm with the tears they were unable to properly stem but inviting and Sarah allowed herself to be pulled a little closer to the bed. Cora patted the seat next to her and Sarah had to fight the urge to look around the room for spies – surely this had to be some sort of joke and Mr Carson would come out of the woodwork, having been charged with finding out if the new lady's maid would do as she was told, or Mrs Hughes, testing whether she knew her place, or even Lord Grantham horrendous, cackling sister who would no doubt laugh at the spectacle she and Cora had set up to see the maid soften.

But nothing came of course and Sarah sat awkwardly on the bed, still holding Cora's hand lightly.

"It's…" Cora bit her lip for a moment and Sarah understood. _This _was what her mother had meant – her lady would want to tell her things even if she wasn't sure she should but Sara knew without any hesitation that whether she wanted to be or not, she had to be the one who would listen if she wanted to keep this job. And despite her earlier committal to giving notice she found she did want to stay here after all.

"You can tell me m'lady. I won't breathe a word to anyone."

Cora eyes seem to widen at that and she looked at her with wonder, as though she had never heard such a thing before: a person that was just for her and no one else in the world. Sarah smiled gently.

"It won't leave this room m'lady, I swear to you."

"It's Lord Grantham…"

The tale came out. His lordship wanted another child – everyone in the county knew that the Earl wanted a son – and Cora was, as far as Sarah was aware, not too keen on the idea. That didn't matter to Sarah of course, but her ladyship held her hand as she passed along all her woes and looked hopeful when Sarah soothed her with soft words and when she fetched Cora's nightdress, warmed by the fireplace next door, her lady smiled brightly and touched her cheek.

It would be ten years before the possibility of leaving passed Sarah's mind again.

_1912_

"Honestly, poor Rosamund…"

Sarah looked up from where she was pouring the tea and cocked an eyebrow in inquiry. Sometimes Cora felt like sharing and today seemed like one of those days. Sure enough her ladyship let her hand fall into her lap, still clutching the letter tightly.

"Violet's insisting she comes to the flower show new month."

Sarah furrowed her brow appropriately and handed Cora's tea to her carefully.

"She doesn't normally come up for that does she m'lady?"

She knew perfectly well that Lady Rosamund didn't of course, but she also knew that none of the family were remotely able to stand up to the Dowager and give her anything but the answer she wanted to hear. Of the many things Sarah liked about the old lady her control of her family was quite high up the list; it reminded her of her own mother and so was a welcome attribute.

"No, she gets so awfully bored with flowers and it's the same thing every year of course. Mr Molesley grows the most exquisite roses you'll ever see and Lady Grantham still walks away with the Grantham Cup."

"I suppose it was named for her family m'lady."

"But not for her," Cora looked up at her wryly through long eyelashes and smiled conspiratorially. "But that's beside the point. Rosamund's being forced to put in an appearance because of course James and Patrick will be here this May."

Sarah nodded neatly and encouraged Cora to go on silently. She naturally knew that the heirs were coming to Downton, Mrs Patmore was already planning Mr James' favourite pudding and Mrs Hughes had been using it as an opportunity to teach Gwen how to air the linen, but she couldn't fathom why it was such a problem for Lady Rosamund. In her experience Lady Rosamund got along with almost anyone she met and Sarah eagerly awaited some kind of gossip off her ladyship regarding any kind of discord in the family.

"Well, he's terribly in love with her of course."

Sarah looked up from where she had been idly folding a blanket.

"Mr James?"

Cora smirked, evidently pleased that she was able to pass the information along at last and Sarah got the impression that Lady Rosamund had expressly forbade her from telling anyone else. Dimly it occurred to her that this meant she didn't truly count as a person, but she pushed away the indignation for want of the gossip. Thomas would be interested and she liked nothing more than passing on the gossip about the ladies to him as he did with her about the gentlemen.

"Oh goodness yes. Apparently when they were children she was quite the beauty, I'm sure you can imagine-" Sarah couldn't. To her Rosamund Painswick always seemed like she enjoyed her attractions all too well and Sarah more easily imagined a gawky child with hair a lighter shade of orange and skinny limbs and a tongue too quick to be heard, but it was far from her place to say. "And he developed quite the attraction for her, even as they grew up."

"But if they were children m'lady, I'm sure the Dowager Countess would have put a stop to it?"

"Oh, but that's just it, it never did end," Cora was leaning forwards now, taking her tea as it was offered to her but not paying it much attention as she deposited it neatly on the side-table, eyes alight with the glee of passing it on and in moments like this Sarah could almost imagine that they were friends. "He always pursued her a little. When Marmaduke died, of course you remember him-" He'd been dead two years when Sarah arrived but she didn't mention it and instead nodded. "James came to the funeral with a ring in tow! Of all things, can you imagine?"

Cora shook her head with the kind of polite indignation that was her stock in trade and Sarah arranged her features into appropriate shock. But something niggled with her, something she didn't quite like to think about and something she certainly never mentioned to anyone.

"It's not unpleasant to be loved though m'lady? Even from afar."

"Oh I suppose not," Cora put to her airily, clearly having gotten over her momentary bout of friendliness as she reached for her cup and found her place in her magazine again, the pink of her cheeks abating as she flicked through the pages idly. "For some people. Poor Rosamund though, I can't think of anything worse than having someone clinging to you for all those years. He's a sweet man and she might have been Countess for a brief time but the thought of someone pining for so many years is a little bit… well, I don't know…"

"Pathetic? M'lady."

Cora smiled up at her softly.

"Exactly O'Brien. You always know quite what to say."

Sarah nodded, cleared away the tea things and left the room, heading downstairs to smoke with Thomas and pass on the latest gossip about the Earl's sister, as though nothing that shattered her soul had happened.

End.


End file.
